


a witch makes things go her way

by agapi42



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Hecate Hardbroom has agency, S3 spoilers, making sense of S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 03:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18683017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agapi42/pseuds/agapi42
Summary: Six times Hecate expanded her horizons and one time she was exactly where she wanted to be.





	a witch makes things go her way

**Author's Note:**

> So... series 3. Thank you to all in the Hackle fandom for inspiration, discussion and headcanons.

1

The words were muffled through the door but the frustration in the exclamation was clear enough. Hecate paused before knocking on the door to the potions lab. 

The door was pulled open magically. "Yes?" 

"Miss Needleman." Hecate stepped inside, locating the Potions teacher standing at a bench, a crate half-unpacked and laid out before her. "I have collected everything on your list." She held up the basket by way of demonstration. 

Glancing up briefly, Miss Needleman nodded. "Thank you, Hecate. Leave it on my desk, would you? I don't suppose you found any codiaeum?" 

Hecate paused, thrown. "Was that on the list?" She was quite sure it hadn't been. A fascinating plant that would well repay closer study, but hardly likely to grow wild in this climate. 

Miss Needleman sighed and ran her hands through her grey hair, leaving it even spikier than before. "Only joking. This delivery is of absolutely no use, no wonder it was so cheap. No refunds but I thought it was worth a shot; the other suppliers were well out of reach of our budget." 

It was a near-constant refrain from her. Hecate nodded distantly.

Glancing at her watch, Miss Needleman exclaimed, “Bats! I’m supposed to be at a staff meeting. Can I leave you to clear up?”

Hecate nodded again and Miss Needleman transferred away.

\---

The useless codiaeum plants were dried but there was fruit still on the stems. It was a small experiment to begin with. She hung a net curtain at her window to filter the light and planted the fruits in pots on the floor in her room. Each pot she wrapped individually in a warming spell and, misting every evening, created humid micro-climates. Being genetically unstable, the plants that grew from the seed had no resemblance to their parent plant and produced shoots which differed again. The pots proliferated.

Studying her potion books, Hecate selected four plants with varying leaf shapes and intense colour, took cuttings and left them, stems wrapped, on Miss Needleman’s desk.

\---

Which was how she came to be standing outside Mrs Cackle’s office, listening to Miss Needleman expound upon the virtues of growing their own potion ingredients. She could only make out words where Miss Needleman’s excitement and volume spiked: “ _incredible_... _notoriously_ diff... _bedroom_... is _worth_?” Then it went quiet.

The door opened.

“Come in, Hecate,” Mrs Cackle called.

Hecate stepped carefully over the threshold and up to the desk. To the side, Miss Needleman bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Miss Needleman is very impressed with your work,” Mrs Cackle began. Miss Needleman nodded in emphatic agreement. “She’s convinced that the initial outlay needed to construct a new greenhouse could be recouped with savings on more exotic potion ingredients if we were to cultivate our own supplies. Would you agree?”

“Yes, Mrs Cackle.”

“By which I mean, are you willing to undertake this? Do you think you could successfully grow a variety of ‘notoriously difficult’ plants? It would be your top priority from now on, acting as official Potions assistant.”

She could be useful. Hecate ducked her head. “Yes, Mrs Cackle.”

 

2

Hecate materialised on the roof of the castle. "Miss Cackle?"  

Miss Cackle, Ada, turned, casting a warm smile over her shoulder. "Miss Hardbroom." 

"I hope I'm not interrupting."  

"Not a bit of it." 

"Mrs Cackle sent me to find you." 

Ada sighed and looked back towards the horizon, the sun sinking towards it. "Just a few more minutes." 

Hecate nodded, a little pointlessly: her motion to transfer away again was arrested when Ada spoke again.

"Have you ever been up here before?" 

"No." 

Ada looked back at her, standing back between two sheltering outcroppings. "Are you afraid of heights?" 

Hecate almost scoffed--what kind of witch was afraid of heights?--but the kindness on Ada’s face made her think Ada wouldn’t mind if she was, wouldn’t judge, so she just shook her head. 

"This was always my favourite place to come when I was a girl. When things got too much. I could just... unfurl and breath." Ada gestured around her. "It shows me the big picture, reminds me how to see the beauty here. And this is the best time to see it.” She stepped back from the edge and leaned against the edge of the outcropping. “Do you want to take a look?" 

Hecate wasn't sure how to respond to these confidences. Though only returned to the school which bore her family’s name last year, Ada Cackle _fit_. Unlike the other Miss Cackle, her sister Agatha who had blown through briefly, Ada seemed well-suited, as if she knew and liked her place in life. That she should feel this way, should need an escape was... unexpected and something like a comfort. Taking a look seemed the least she could do.

She stepped forward past the outcropping and the landscape unfolded around her in a wash of orange light. It stole the breath from her lungs, left her hanging weightlessly in the moment in between. As if her thoughts and worries and cares dissipated across the miles stretching around, her mind emptied, quiet and stunned.

She barely noticed Ada’s light touch to her arm or her murmured, “I’ll leave you to it.”

 

3

Ada frowned down at the plant she was repotting as Hecate finished her explanation of its properties. “No wonder I’m unfamiliar with it. Our collection has certainly expanded since I was a student. How did we afford something so valuable? I’m quite afraid to touch it now.”

“I’ll trust you,” Hecate said, and was dimly surprised at the truth. “It’s well-established by now; you can’t hurt it too much.” This greenhouse, too, was well established; her domain but Ada’s presence there had become familiar over the last couple of years, as Hecate’s had on the roof. Hecate had never said, as Ada had, “Here is my favourite place”. She had never explained in words how good and right it felt to grow things, feeding and pruning to bring them to their full potential (though no amount of careful attention would ever undo the destruction she had wrought). In the invitation and in Ada’s respect for the greenhouse and its contents, she felt it understood. “To answer your question, there’s quite a barter network for magical plants. Ready-to-use mature plants are valued more highly so people are quite often willing to swap seeds of a rarer plant for a more common fully-grown plant or two. You might see one or two adverts in the periodicals but it’s mostly conducted over the mirror network. If you’re looking for something, someone knows someone.”

“Remarkable.” Ada gently stroked a leaf. “Your plants must be highly thought of.” She bent her head to her work, apparently not expecting a reply; gratitude washed through Hecate.

They worked in comfortable silence for some time. It wasn’t until Hecate got to her feet to start tidying that Ada spoke again.

“Would you consider teacher training?”

Hecate held tight to the counter, took deep breaths before she trusted herself to turn and face Ada. “I'm not leaving.”

“I know.” And there it was, in the slight furrow of Ada's brow, the widening of her eyes: confusion, _why not_. She knew that Hecate chose to remain, accepted it, didn’t pry, but her face was an open book. Even those who knew her history didn’t know about Indigo, didn’t understand why Hecate had refused the freedom offered to her upon graduation, choosing instead to cling tight to her binding and make a place here. “You wouldn’t have to. I have a friend: it'd mostly be mirror calls and post but she'd visit occasionally. It’s a transferable skill but it would, of course, be immensely useful here.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Hecate closed her eyes briefly. Ada had clearly put thought into this. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know the truth. She deserved something of an explanation. “I have... made mistakes.”

“So have we all.”

She was unworthy of the compassion on Ada’s face, the softness of her voice, the simple fact of her consideration, and she turned her back, stacking empty trays by hand to occupy herself. “Not like me.”

“Mistakes make excellent teachers. So do those that learn from them. If our mistakes are not repeated, the future of witchcraft gets that little bit brighter.” Ada got to her feet and moved to the door. “It’s not a time-limited offer. If you decide otherwise, just let me know.”

\---

 It was unfair, Hecate decided, at agonising length. It was unfair to Ada, Miss Cackle, to continue as they were. Unfair to allow Ada to smile at her at breakfast; to share a comfortable silence; to waste any more time on her. She wouldn’t if she knew what Hecate had done.

She tried distancing herself. No more rooftop chats. She transferred away if she saw Ada approaching. Ada stopped coming to the greenhouse. Hecate missed her dreadfully. It was the best thing for them both, she told herself, and almost believed it until she turned a corner and almost ran into Ada.

The surprise in Ada’s eyes sparked into hope.

“Hecate, I’m sorry—”

“My apologies,” Hecate said curtly and transferred, reappearing three corridors away. Their exchange had been regarding the near collision, surely, but... she considered for the first time that Ada might think she held her at fault for something. If Ada thought she had somehow done something wrong, of course, she would give her space but, of course, she would try to make amends. Ada had to understand. She needed the truth. She deserved the truth.

Hecate wasn’t brave. The thought of actually voicing it made her sick to her stomach. It was probable she’d be handed straight to the Magic Council, which would be nothing more than she deserved. But it had to be done. Her mistake with Indigo could not be rectified.  Her mistake with Ada could be. This was the price. She couldn’t lie any longer.

\--

She dwelt on that day, reliving vivid snatches.

_Forcing herself to knock on Ada’s office door, to turn the handle and walk in._

“Miss Cackle.”

“Miss Hardbroom.” Ada returned the renewed formality but favoured her with a smile that Hecate tried to memorise, knowing it would be one of the last.

“Will you walk with me in the grounds?”

_The wind rustling in the trees as she cleared her throat, forced the words._

“Years ago, there was a girl called Joy.”

It was the only way she could tell the story. She was no longer Joy and she would not make Joy’s mistakes again. It was the only way she could live with herself.

_The leaves crunching as they materialised, somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t where Indigo stood, and she fell to her knees, Ada’s arms suddenly, inexplicably around her._

“I _killed_ her,” she whispered into Ada’s shoulder, too weak to do more than protest this undeserved comfort with truth she could never admit to Indigo's face.

“Oh, my dear,” and Ada’s voice was thick with tears, “you had no idea.”

_The stars visible through gaps in the canopy as they lay together, staring upwards._

“You see the good in everyone, Ada Cackle,” Hecate whispered, still reeling. She’d held her secret for fifteen years. Now Ada _knew_ and she hadn’t turned away, hadn’t turned her in.

“It isn’t hard when there is so much good to see,” Ada returned, and rested her fingers lightly on the back of Hecate’s hand.

_The moonlight painting the corridor in shades of blue as they paused at the parting of their ways._

 Ada looked intently at her, reaching out to place a hand on her arm. “Remember you’re highly valued here. You have a place for as long as you want it. No-one will ever force you out, trust me.”

“I do.” Ada's reassurances rang true. Offering them was a kindness on her part, though Hecate would never test them. As long as Indigo remained, so would she. “Thank you, Ada.”

\--

Several months after that day, she pushed herself again to knock on Ada’s office door.

“Come in!” Ada called. “Ah, Hecate.” She waved at the chairs in front of her desk, more in polite invitation, Hecate knew, than any expectation that Hecate would take one.

Hecate forced herself to stand still in front of Ada's desk.

“Did you mean what you said? About mistakes?”

Ada's face cleared. “Absolutely.”

“I have been thinking. I would like to do the training.”  Magic had come easily to her, so easily she hadn’t appreciated its power, hadn’t taken responsibility. She had been reckless and Indigo had paid the price. She had learnt the hard way the importance of precision and respect. If she could instil that understanding in students, protect them from making her kind of mistake then, as Ada said, the future of witchcraft would be that bit brighter.

Ada clasped her hands. “Wonderful! I'll get in touch with Connie straight away. I think you'll work well together.”

 

4

Hecate got up early to check the post before breakfast. Unsurprisingly, Miss Bat was already there when she arrived. One would, Hecate thought, have to ambush the flying postman on their broom to reach the post before Miss Bat.

“Nothing for me today,” Miss Bat said, despite holding a sheaf of letters clearly addressed to her. She sighed. “Maybe tomorrow. I think I saw what you’re looking for, though.” She delved back into the sack and pulled out the latest issue of _Journal of Applied Potions_ , pressing it into Hecate's hands. “Congratulations, Hecate. A most prestigious publication.”

Hecate looked down at the journal in her hands, thumbs smoothing across the cover. “Thank you, Miss Bat.”

As Miss Bat walked back through the gates, Hecate took a deep breath and opened the issue. There, in the list of contents, was her name. Her name against the title of her article and potioneers across the world would be seeing this, might read her work, might even, possibly, take something from it. Here she was.

 

5

Hecate circled the grounds on her broom, alert for danger. The protections seemed strong but she strengthened them nonetheless. Landing, she dismissed her broom and sent out a final pulse of magic, seeking and searching. She knew every inch of the grounds like she did her own body and nothing seemed to be amiss.

Finally satisfied that Agatha was well and truly gone, she transferred back to Ada's rooms. Ada sat huddled at the end of the sofa, staring into the fire.

“I suppose you think I’m a right fool.”

Hecate sat beside her. “No. Agatha’s the fool if she can’t see the value in your work.”

Ada shifted, leant against her. “ _Our_ work, Deputy Headmistress.”

She’d held the title for almost two years but it still made Hecate’s stomach swoop, embodying Ada’s trust in her, a life she’d never envisioned but held great pride in.

“I hoped things would be different this time.” Ada sighed. “I should have done more.”

Agatha, in Hecate’s opinion, would never learn from her mistakes. She refused to admit she even made mistakes. She was unwilling to ever accept the need for work on her part, always looking to her power rather than patience and diligence to deliver what she wanted, _demanded_ , from life. When this approach failed to achieve results, it was inevitably someone else’s fault.

“You did all you could,” Hecate said instead. “You can’t force her to change.”

Ada opened doors. She’d opened doors Hecate hadn’t even imagined back when they first met and she’d been holding one open for Agatha for just as long. Agatha knew this. Yet she rarely even deigned to acknowledge it. She seemed to believe it to be just part of what the universe owed her, there whenever she wanted to take advantage of it. Her arrogance and ingratitude infuriated Hecate.

Ada sought her hand and squeezed it. “Whatever did I do to deserve you?”

Dearest Ada, care beyond measure, taken for granted by so many around her. “I ask myself the same,” Hecate murmured, “and I cannot begin to imagine.”

Ada laughed, shaking against her.

Hecate frowned, briefly perplexed, then rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Would you like me to enumerate your deserving actions?”

“No,” Ada chuckled, calmed. “I know and I appreciate it more than I can say. And—” she giggled again “—it’s good that you know your worth, Hecate.”

“You’re impossible,” Hecate said, fond and without bite. She couldn’t begrudge Ada her amusement, however contrived. Ada needed cheering and her ability to find happiness in the smallest of things was one of many things Hecate loved about her.

“No, merely very, very improbable.”

Hecate turned her head to find Ada, leaning on her shoulder, so very near. Ada's eyes were so blue, the brightness of mirth fading into a particular softness that seemed to echo Hecate’s heart. It took only a slight tilt of Hecate's head to rest her forehead against Ada's: the moment stretched, one heartbeat, two, three.

“I love you, Ada.” The words tumbled forth. It had always been a matter of when, not if. Kind, vulnerable, maddening, _brilliant_ Ada. She could never keep the truth from her. Hecate pulled back slowly and turned away, staring ahead. “I wish...”

Ada twisted, tucking her legs under her, turning to face Hecate fully. “You wish?”

“You deserve more.”

“More strength? Passion? Integrity? Intelligence? You have given your gifts in abundance. Hecate.” Ada reached out and laid a hand on her arm. It was that as much as her words that gave Hecate the courage to look back at her. Ada would always reach for her. Holding her gaze, Ada smiled. “I love you too, very much.”

Ada opened another door and Hecate stepped through, her feet finding the ground she'd dreamt of, wished for, dared to hope for.

 “You are my best friend, my deputy, and exemplary as both. I could wish for no more than that which you are willing to give.” Ada's hand slid down to entwine her fingers with Hecate's. “Promise me?”

 “I do not believe the day will come but if I ever wish to leave, I promise you I shall.” The words were worn smooth by repetition; they lacked sufficient impact. “I swear on the _Code_.”

“I believe you.”

Hecate closed her eyes, took a deep breath, another, focusing on their clasped hands, letting the new knowledge shift and settle within her. _Ada. Love._

 

6

Hecate knocked on the door. It opened promptly, as if by magic, rather taking her by surprise.

That surprise was rather mirrored on Julie Hubble’s face. “Oh, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Ms Hubble.” Hecate cleared her throat. “I wondered how Indigo was getting on.”

“You’ve just missed her, I’m afraid: she and Mildred have gone to the cinema.”

“I see. Well then—”

“I was just off out myself,” Julie continued and Hecate belatedly noticed the bag on her shoulder. “Have to pick up a few bits for dinner.” She paused. “Fancy a walk?”

 “I don’t... much care for walking.”

“Or you could magic us there and back, save me carrying the bag.” Julie raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever been to an ordinary supermarket?”

“No.” That was one part of the world Hecate had no desire to see. “Perhaps a walk would be acceptable.”

 Julie pursed her lips. Hecate wondered why she could suddenly hear Dimity in her head, laughing: _I’m honoured, HB._

“All right then,” Julie said instead. “Let’s go.”

 

1

“I think that’s about everything for now.” Ada shuffled through the papers on her desk. “Nothing that couldn’t wait a week if you wanted to take a little time.”

“Ada, are you trying to get rid of me?” Hecate meant it as a joke. Mostly. Maybe it didn’t sound that way. She’d let the spell fall from her and it was a possibility now. Hardly a probability, she reminded herself.

Ada looked up. “Never.”

Hecate raised an eyebrow. “Since my return, you have suggested half a dozen conferences of varying relevance, three field trips, two sabbaticals, and now this. I have had my holiday. I am well aware of the work we have to complete.” She located a sheet. “Updating the fourth and fifth-year curriculum in light of the new standards. Can we continue?”

“You were only gone a fortnight.”

“And it was wonderful. Truly. Like I said. Now I have returned.”

“But is that...” Ada sighed. “I don’t want you to feel that you don’t have opportunities if you want them. It’s a big world—”

“And this is my place in it, with you. If there is one thing you cannot be accused of, it is failing to present opportunities.” Hecate paused dramatically. “Though a field trip with third years sounds more like a threat.”

The echoes of Ada’s laughter still brightened the room as they bent to their work, the warmth of being _home_ soft within Hecate.

 


End file.
